


Caller ID by Madison

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney had no intention of telling the Colonel he'd assigned him a personal ringtone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caller ID by Madison

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt "Drunk Phone Sex" at melagan's BJ Fridays. Takes place after the events in The Return.

  
The phone rang. It took Rodney a moment to find it, meanwhile; the Troggs sang the opening refrain of _Wild Thing_. Which was how he knew the call was from John.

He had no intention of ever telling John that he'd created an individual ring tone just for him.

"McKay here," he said abruptly into the phone. He glanced at his watch and then sat up in surprise. It was 11:58 pm. Something serious must have occurred for John to call him so late. As a matter of fact, the last few times he'd called John, he'd sounded bored and distracted and Rodney had gotten the impression he was annoying John by calling every week.

He glanced around the crappy apartment he was subletting. He'd done nothing to make it his own; every day he'd been waiting for word that they could return to Atlantis. He'd thought of contacting his former neighbor and getting his cat back, but that would have been accepting defeat, and he wasn't ready to do that yet. Rodney thought that even if they weren't allowed back into Atlantis, the SGC would be criminally stupid to give up on Pegasus, especially with the Wraith being an active threat.

He waited nervously for whatever it was that John had to say.

"Hey, Rodney," John drawled, worse than usual. Rodney realized in a flash, he was _drunk_.

Oh, this was bad. Very bad. He couldn't remember ever seeing John drunk at any point before, not even at the end of the first year, when they were knew the Wraith were on the way and there seemed no doubt that they were all going to die. For John to be calling him now, inebriated, could only mean one thing.

The IOA was pulling the plug on the Atlantis expedition. Helia and her band of Lantean survivors were really kicking them out of the city and the expedition was being broken up and re-assigned.

Why else would John call him, drunk as a skunk?

"Colonel," Rodney said carefully, reluctant to have his fears confirmed. As long as John didn't say it, there was still hope, still a chance things could go back to the way they were before.

"Hey. Hey, Rodney. I went out with Cam tonight. Mitchell. You know, he's not such a bad guy."

There didn't seem to be much to say to that, but Rodney tried. "That's nice. I'm glad that you could find others of your own kind at the SGC."

John laughed, his characteristic donkey bray nearly shattering the phone and Rodney was suddenly swept with a feeling of homesickness. God, how he missed Atlantis. He missed the city, his team. He missed John. The once-a-week calls from Area 51 to Cheyenne Mountain just weren't enough. He'd be lucky if he got even that, now.

"How much have you had to drink?" he asked suspiciously.

John's continued chortle was infectious and Rodney found himself grinning as well.

"Not much," John said cheerfully. "We had these itty bitty little shot glasses..."

"And how many of them did you have?" Rodney asked repressively, for form's sake.

"I stopped counting after thirteen." There was a tiny hesitation before the word 'thirteen', as though he'd had to practice the pronunciation of it in his head first before saying it aloud.

Dear god. It must really be bad then. This was it; they were done. The expedition was going to be permanently scattered to the four winds. Rodney felt an intense grief for what he'd lost. In the two years that he'd been in Atlantis, he'd formed strong attachments, not the least of which was with John, Teyla and Ronon. Half of his team was back in Pegasus, where he'd probably never seen them again; he couldn't even talk to them on the phone or send them emails. The expedition had been shut out from Atlantis, probably never to return. Though he spoke with John now, he knew it was only a matter of time before other commitments and contracts took each of them in different directions.

A part of him rebelled at the idea. It was so wrong; they belonged in Atlantis. And, truth be told, he couldn't shake the idea that he and John belonged together.

Not that he had all that much to go on. Really, it was a very small sample size. But back at the end of the first year, when the Wraith were sending an armada to destroy them and Rodney's people had no answers, Rodney and John had found a weird sort of relief in each other's arms.

When the crisis was over and things had gone back to normal, whatever it was that they'd experienced had vanished as though it had never existed. Oh sure, Rodney had thought about it and wished that it was still a vital part of his life, but he'd understood the reasons why the newly minted Lt. Colonel couldn't risk his career or his position in Atlantis over a mere relationship.

Rodney resigned himself to accepting whatever news the Colonel was about to impart.

"So, that's it then. The IOA is just going to give up, accept defeat."

"What are you talking about, McKay?" John asked, suddenly sounding so like himself that Rodney was momentarily uncertain as to whether or not he was drunk.

"It's nearly midnight, Sheppard," he said irritably. "You're calling me off schedule and you're drunk. What am I supposed to think?"

There was a long pause. "This was a bad idea," John said at last, in a small, quiet voice. It sounded oddly pathetic and ever so slightly slurred.

"No, wait, wait, wait!" Rodney shouted, certain that John was about to hang up. "I'm sorry. I just got worried, you know? You can certainly see where I'm coming from, right?"

"Yeah," John said. There was a long silence and Rodney began to wonder, again, why John had called.

"So." Rodney decided to risk it, after the silence stretched on. "So, then. Everything's okay?"

"I was thinking of you," John said. "So, I called."

Rodney tried to ignore the little thrill of pleasure this gave him.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," John said, sounding a bit breathy and the sound went straight to Rodney's cock. God, he'd almost forgotten what John could do to him.

"I've been thinking about you, too," Rodney confessed, settling back in his chair more comfortably.

"It's so easy to think about you," John added in a husky voice and Rodney could feel the heat pool in his abdomen as a result. He shifted his thighs apart slightly.

"I've missed you," Rodney said, his voice dropping in register. He hoped he wasn't breaking some inviolate rule by admitting that.

"Yeah," John confessed, sending a bolt of warmth to Rodney's cock by way of his chest. "Me too."

"So what are we going to do about it": Rodney asked, feeling slightly adventurous, emboldened because John hadn't immediately shut him down.

"I got some leave coming up next week," John said. "I could come to Nevada."

The thought of John coming to see him sent a little shudder of anticipation through Rodney that he tried to quash. The moment Colonel Everett stalked through the Gate with his contingent of Marines and took command, John had ceased to think outside the military box. It had been scary to watch him drop back into a subservient role when he'd been the guy that had been saving the day for them all from the beginning. Worse, John had pretended that whatever this thing that he and Rodney had going on between them was simply a matter of stress-relief in a time of crisis.

He'd been relieved when John had snapped out of it. He'd seen the tension building between John and Everett; though John had never said what had triggered it and Rodney sure as hell wasn't asking. It was plain to see however, that the misguided and woefully inept plan from Earth was doomed to fail, and there'd been flashes of the real John underneath the Major when he'd pointed out those failings to the Colonel.

Rodney had thought his heart would stop when he realized John had chosen to take the puddlejumper on a kamikaze run at the Wraith ship. He didn't think it started beating again until he'd realized John was safe on board the Daedalus.

"Oh, Rod-ney," John's voice sang softly in his ear. "You still there?"

Rodney coughed. "Um, yes, yes. I was just thinking..."

"Thinking's good. You're a very thinky man, you know that?"

Rodney snorted. "And you're a very drunk man."

"So." The drawl curled around something deep in Rodney and made him lean his head back to rest on the chair. "You want me to come or not?"

The comment was so suggestive that Rodney could picture John in a flash, sprawled out in a similar chair, pants open and one hand working his cock while he held the phone up to his ear with the other. Face flushed with booze and pleasure, eyes sleepy-lidded, hair tousled and wayward. Rodney almost lost track of the conversation and he was embarrassed when he realized this.

"Come? I mean, out here? To Nevada? You really want to do that?" It seemed unlikely, but then where else would Sheppard go on leave? It wasn't like he had anyone else. Or did he? It startled Rodney to realize that though he knew _John_ , he didn't really know much _about_ him.

"Yeah, Rodney. I really want to come." His voice was suggestive, full of other meanings. There was a pause and then John continued. "'Course, what I really want is to go home."

Rodney knew without asking that John meant Atlantis. "Yeah," he agreed softly.

"You know what I'd do if we were home?" John asked, and Rodney could hear the slow, sultry smile in his voice. "I'd meet you on the east pier."

"Oh, yeah?" Rodney smiled. A nice cold beer on the pier would be good right about now.

"Yeah," John said, in that purring manner again, and Rodney felt his cock lift in his pants. _Jesus_. The man's voice should be registered as a sex weapon.

"Yeah," John repeated. "I'd back you up to the wall. You'd protest, you always do. 'Not here,' you'd say. 'Too risky.' 'Too cold.' But I wouldn't care. I'd push you back against the wall when you tried to leave, so hard you'd thump. And you'd stare at me with those big, incredible eyes and your crooked mouth hanging open and you'd get off on it."

Rodney felt his mouth drop open now, because seriously, who'd have thought John would be so good at this? The man who never wanted to talk about anything?

"The east pier? Are you insane? Anyone could see us there." Rodney shifted the phone to the other ear, dropping his right hand to cup his crotch. This was going to be good.

"Exactly." John's voice was throaty and raw. Rodney slouched down in his chair and spread his thighs a little wider.

"You can't," Rodney murmured, not really meaning it. "Not here."

There was a long pause, long enough that Rodney began to think he'd gone too far. He started to sit up when he heard John speak again. "Yes, here," he said in his gravely 'command' voice. "Right here. I'm going to kiss you within an inch of your life, so hard that your lips will be swollen and your face red and then I'm going to bite and suck on your neck until I leave a mark. My mark. Right there, where everyone can see it."

Rodney couldn't help it; a little moan escaped him. It only seemed to spur John on. "Yeah," John said. Something in the tone of his voice made Rodney think that he was slowly jacking himself off as he spoke and Rodney began to fumble with his own fly one-handed as a result. "Yeah, I'd mark you. And then I'd mouth you. Your nipples would be standing up through your shirt, the way they always do, mocking me, showing me what I can't have."

Rodney's hand got still for a moment. He held his breath and then released it with a sigh. "Yes, you _can_ have it. Right here, right now. You know I want it. You know I won't say no."

This time Rodney heard John's attempt at suppressing a groan. It was the hottest sound he'd ever heard.

"I'd push that shirt up and bite at your skin," John said slowly, deliberately. "I'd rub my face in your belly and smile when you slammed your head back against the wall and grabbed my hair. Because you like that, don't you? When you feel my beard against your skin. It makes you wild."

Finally, finally, Rodney got his hands on his cock. "Oh, yes," he sighed in contented agreement.

"Well, you make me wild," John said darkly. "I can't get enough of you. I've got to undo your pants and jerk them down over your hips until they drop around your ankles. You're hobbled now, you can't go anywhere. You're all mine. Your cock is standing up for me, all red and wet and begging for it and I can't wait to take you in. I'm drooling, I want it so bad."

"John." Rodney felt a wave of heat flush over him and his shirt was damp against the small of his back. "I want it too. I want it like I've never wanted anything before. I want you to take me into your mouth and suck me deep. I want to fuck your mouth. Just a little at first, but then I see that you're so eager for it and I know you can take it and I just want to hold your head and fuck your face and..."

Rodney dropped the phone.

"Hang on," he yelled at it, taking the opportunity to hurriedly push his pants down past his knees. He sighed with relief when he picked up the phone and sat down again, his cock bouncing up happily. "I'm here, I'm here," he said breathlessly. "I haven't gone anywhere. Don't stop. I don't want you to stop." He took hold of his cock as he spoke, pushing his thumb over the slit and spreading the moisture there over the end. He closed his eyes, picturing John there on his knees in front of him.

"I couldn't stop now if I tried," John said. "The city could be under attack, the sky could be lit up with explosions, but I wouldn't be able to take my mouth and hands off you. I've got your cock in my hand now and it's perfect. I want you in my mouth, deep, so deep I can't breathe. I want you to push your dick in my mouth, wet it with my spit, feel the slide of it against my tongue as you fuck in and out."

Rodney moved his hand rapidly up and down his dick, tossing his head back as a groan was wrenched from him. The phone slipped away from his ear; he gripped the armrest with one hand as he jacked even faster. He pushed out with his feet, heels pressing into the floor as he lifted his hips, his thighs becoming taut with tension. Small cries escaped his mouth; he couldn't help himself. His orgasm ripped through him, unexpectedly strong. When it was done, Rodney sat a little bemusedly, his cock, happy and sated, his clothing rucked up and pushed aside.

Wiping his hand on his shirt, he dug around in the chair until he found the phone.

When he put it up to his ear again, he could hear John. He sounded further away, as though he'd put down the phone as well. Maybe he was lying in bed with the phone on the pillow next to him. Rodney could hear John's murmured, "Oh, yeah, Rodney. That's so fucking hot." There were other sounds, softer, nearly indistinguishable, and Rodney found that he was straining to make them out.

He heard John's breath catch, punctuated by soft grunts and he knew the moment that John started to come. A smile spread across his face as he listened. He felt warm and content and utterly dissipated.

He waited for John to come back on the phone, but he didn't.

"Hello, John? Hello?"

A faint buzzing noise reached his ears.

Damn. John fell asleep. Rodney wondered if he was half-dressed, his dick hanging out, sprawled on his bed. Or maybe he'd gotten undressed before he'd called and he was lying stretched out on the mattress, all lean muscle and sinew, naked but for the dog tags around his neck. Rodney could see him lying there, could remember clearly seeing fine scars on his skin, touching hairy forearms and the way he smelled and tasted.

He started to feel cold and very alone. What he and John had done was stupid, especially over a cell phone and especially if they'd had any hopes of going back to Pegasus. John, at least, could blame it on being drunk, but Rodney had no excuse at all. He listened for another moment and realized John was out for the count.

He disconnected the call.

****

The next morning, just to be mean, he called John's cell at 5:30 am. "Hey, hope I didn't wake you," he said with aggressive cheerfulness into the phone. "You were pretty out of it last night. Call me and let me know that you didn't aspirate in your own vomit or anything. I hear Zelenka's got a good hangover recipe if you need one."

He wasn't looking for a response from John by repeatedly checking his voice mail or messages the rest of the day. He just had a lot of messages to answer. He was a busy man.

That evening, he got a text from John saying that he had to go 'out of town' and that his leave had been canceled. Rodney wondered briefly if it was true and tried not to worry about why John was being sent off-world (if indeed, he was) and why his leave would have been canceled. Was he in some kind of trouble?

He looked at his schedule. As soon as John got back, Rodney would take a weekend and go to Colorado. He would call Carson as well; hell they'd all go out to dinner. They'd invite Elizabeth too. John would have a hard time saying no to that. So would Elizabeth, for that matter. And this wasn't just about seeing John. He wanted to see all his friends again.

****

One thing for sure, John certainly knew how to throw a dinner party. The group that had gathered that night for dinner (and hadn't Elizabeth looked dreadful? There had been something going on there; Rodney just knew it) had ended up taking an emergency run back to Atlantis to save it from the Replicators. Rodney had felt so right, there in the jumper, formulating a plan with John on the fly, implementing it with the help of everyone, Ronon and Teyla included. It had felt amazing and Rodney had been high on adrenaline and drunk on success when he'd turned to John to say something and had seen the Lt. Colonel mode was fully operational again.

  
Yeah. He should be used to that by now, right? Obviously, it was back to business as usual. Radios would replace cell phones, puddle jumpers for cars. Rodney and John would go back to saving the universe on a weekly basis and that would be okay, better than okay. It would be good because he and John were together again, if not together. It was good enough for Rodney.

After they'd gotten everyone settled back in Atlantis, they'd had the weird thing with the whales and Rodney and John had been on restricted duty while their eardrums healed. Rodney still wasn't entirely sure that he would regain full hearing in one ear. As a result, he wasn't wearing a radio at the moment, so he looked up in surprise when the soft 'ping' of a message in his inbox reached him. He put down the scientific article he'd been reviewing and crossed over to the laptop on his desk.

It was from John. "Meet me on the east pier," it read. "I've got beer."

Rodney grinned. Well, who was he to turn that down?

John was sitting on the edge of the pier when Rodney came through the doors. He looked up at Rodney's approach and handed him a Bud, lips moving as he spoke, though Rodney could not hear a sound.

Alarmed, Rodney grabbed an earlobe and tugged on it vigorously, as though he could somehow shake water out of his ear and hear again. "What's that?" he asked in concern. "Say again? I can't hear you." Even as he spoke, he became aware of the sounds he _could_ hear, the soft splash of water on the moorings below, the pneumatic sounds of the doors shutting behind him. He gave John the ' _you are such a child_ ' face as he accepted the beer and sat down beside him.

"You're too easy, McKay." John's smile was a sly smirk.

"Some of us are more mature than others," Rodney answered loftily. He popped the snap ring and waited until the foam settled before drinking. The beer was cold and had a nice bite to it going down.

They sat watching the water for a long moment, John taking another swig of beer and briefly swinging his booted feet like a child.

"It's good to be back," he said at last.

"Yes," Rodney agreed with heartfelt conviction.

John shot him a sideways glance. "No regrets?"

Rodney knew that a handful of people had decided not to come back to the expedition when they'd been allowed to return to Atlantis, but he didn't think that was what John was after here.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't have some," Rodney conceded ruefully. "But on the whole? No. My place is here. I'm needed here. I'll do whatever it takes...make whatever sacrifices necessary...to be here." He took another swallow of beer and looked back out over the sea. From this pier, the lights of Atlantis were reflected in the water all around them. The city at night was magical and Rodney could not ever imagine giving it up again.

"Yeah." John played with the ring on his can, bending it back and forth. "I know what you mean." He gave a little sigh.

Rodney alerted on it. A sigh? From John? "Not that things couldn't be better this time around," he said slowly, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the horizon. "I mean, you know, learn from our mistakes. We've got a second chance here in Pegasus; we shouldn't blow it."

John tipped his head sideways to look at Rodney. His pupils seemed huge in the dim light. "I've been doing my best not to blow it ever since I got here, Rodney." John's drawl was bitter and sarcastic. "Mind telling me how not to fuck things up this time?"

"You could," Rodney said carefully, "try giving me a call sometime. When, you know, we're not all about to die or you're totally wasted."

Even in the dark, Rodney could see the flush that spread upward from John's throat to his face. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Rodney," he began, only to stop when the metal ring snapped off his can. He looked at it in consternation for a moment before pocketing it.

"You know," Rodney said conversationally, "you're the only person I ever assigned an individual ring tone."

"Oh, yeah?" John's little half-smile appeared. "What was it? Springsteen's _Born to Run_? Cash's _Hurt_?"

Damn, those were good choices. Rodney hesitated and then got to his feet. He motioned towards the door with the beer. "Come find out?" he suggested diffidently.

John looked up at him for a long time with unreadable eyes. Rodney could tell the moment the thought ' _what the hell, why not_?' entered his mind. The slow smile, the decision to screw the regs, the realization that maybe he could have what he wanted for a change; it was all there on his face. He set down the can, using his hands to get easily to his feet. He reached down to collect the beer, taking another swallow as he straightened.

"You're a bad influence on me, McKay," John said as they turned for the door.

"Well, I certainly _hope_ so," Rodney said, earning him a laugh.

He'd miss the phone conversations but he thought this was, on the whole, a much better tradeoff.

~fin~

  



End file.
